Djinn of Comfort
by trulymetalwings
Summary: A look at things from the monster's point of view, but with a twist too and an actual plot. Uses an oc so, don't read if you don't like. OC/Sam and possible Cas/Dean.


**Yoooooooooooooooo first story by myself**

**gotta go to bed now got school tommorow so**

**enjoy!**

* * *

Oh, this was bad.

This was very, _very,_ bad.

Cold air pumped through his lungs, faster and faster as he ran.

Faster,_ c'mon Ethan, faster! You cant let them get you!_

His boots made soft crunches in the barely half inch of snow, but it was enough to cover the harsher sound of the footwear hitting the concrete of the city.

Didn't help much though.

He could swear they could _scent _him.

He hadn't thought humans had very good noses.

Down the street, dodging between cars stalled on the side of the road, down an alleyway, up the fire escape, and still they chased.

Down the staircase, he couldn't stay on the buildings like he would have preferred, they would have better sight of him.

They had guns, and while the bullets couldn't kill him, or the fall they could cause, he didn't fancy being injured.

Or the pain that came with it.

Although maybe he deserved the pain.

After all, even when he had sworn not to, he had fed.

He had _caused_ pain.

**_BANG, BANG,_** shots exploded at his heels, just missing his shoulders as one of them saw him around the bend of the staircase. He rushed out the door.

Great, no cars. Just his luck.

It was also his luck that the landing the second one was on had an open window.

Also, that one was a crack shot.

It took his mind a second to register the pain blossoming in his shoulder, and another for him to stumble, and another for the first one to hit him with another bullet in his right knee. Yet another second passed before he fell.

His head hit the unforgiving pavement of the center of the road, bouncing off sickeningly. He lay in an awkward position, his right leg limp twisted in an obviously broken way. He turned his head to observe his attackers.

There were two, the first one was about 6'2 with brown blond hair and the most green eyes. The second was tall, if he was in a less compromising position he would make a comment about moose, with longish brown hair and eyes that held many colors, as well as more pity than the first one's eyes. If Ethan weren't this particular species he might ask to trade phone numbers with him. But Ethan didn't think of any of this as he looked into the pair's eyes.

He only thought of his own fear, and how ironic it was that a creature such as _him_ was feeling fear.

He was supposed to feed off of fear.

The green eyed one walked to him, and leaned down, bringing a silver blade to the back of his neck, dipped in lambs blood no doubt, that he hadn't noticed in his desperate escape. He frantically searched the eyes for anything that might bring him hope, but there was none that he could see.

Soft foot steps came from down the street, and he looked to see a woman, with hair that was redder than his, and eyes that were greener than his mostly grey ones. He could also smell fear on her, but it was fleeting, and could not be fed on.

Not that he had ever wanted to, or would if he somehow survived.

"It's the same type of Djinn as what attacked you Charlie." The tall one addressed the woman.

"Oh yeah?" She looked down at him, walking within five feet of his outstretched hand, but going no further. He searched her eyes for a shred of pity, but she scoffed at his expression. "Bastard."

He turned his gaze desperately to the tall one who was standing about seven feet away, behind the green eyed one. His eyes held calm pity, not the kind who would help him though.

He squinted his eyes shut, pressing into the pavement. These were his last moments. He had never even had his first kiss.

The green eyed man raised the blade, ready to slice his life away.

He was saved by a faint buzzing emanating from his pocket.

"Dean!" The tall one alerted the green eyed one to the sound before he ended him. He quickly pressed the flat of the blade to his neck, and searched his pockets for the phone. The man, Dean, unlocked it and and furrowed his brow at the screen, it buzzed again slightly and his eyebrows rose.

"You know this guy?" He turned the phone around so he could read the texts.

**Hey, It's Mike. How would you like to hang out at the theater? I hear Wolverine is showing.**

and,

**Aren't you glad I swindled your** **phone number from you?**

"W-we met at the bus stop two days ago." He stammered out, shaking slightly. "He was nice."

The man snorted. "Yeah, like that's what attracts your kind."

"Doesn't mean I can't like it." His voice died down to a breath as the man's eyes burned into him accusingly.

"Thought you were the type to feed off of fear."

He whimpered pitifully, turning his head into the pavement. "N-never means I have to like it."

The man squinted. "What?"

"I-I've never liked having to feed." He explained shakily. "It brings out whatever fear people have inside and distracts them with it while I eat them inside out." He shivered. "It's disgusting."

He looked contemplative for a moment, all of them did, before the man stood, leaving him sprawled out on the pavement. He took his phone, entering something in before dropping it none too softly on the pavement at his side. "We'll be in town for a week. Call that number if you can figure out a way to feed without killing or injuring, and if you don't all, or if another person dies, we come after you."

They started to walk off in the direction the woman, Charlie, had come from. The tall one sent him a pitying glance, before hurrying after the other two. He lay there in shock, before focusing and sitting up on the pavement.

He had a lot of work to do.

* * *

**Yeah, I might continue it if I bother. Eh**


End file.
